Wonderwall
by nili-roshan
Summary: The effects of Vorik's Pon Farr, for better- that is, for Chakotay- and for worse. Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek.


Vorik felt like he had waken after a terrible dream, only his colleagues still looked at him with those opposing eyes- eyes that were filled with suppressed pity, disdain, rage. If they'd stop looking at him like that he could move on. If they would let it go, he could forget. But they wouldn't, and he couldn't.

Commander Chakotay spotted Vorik sitting alone at a table far from anyone else, in a corner of the mess hall, while he stood in line to receive Neelix's special- a Nassarian stew of sorts. The smell wafted towards him and made his stomach grumble while he absentmindedly chatted with Paris standing in front of him in the line and while he scrutinized Vorik staring listlessly into his bland looking Vulcan soup. Ensign Vorik looked no different than usual: his lithe body filling out his uniform nicely, his skin still a sickly pallor, his visage devoid of all emotion and thought-

That last one might have been a bit off.

Chakotay hadn't really known Vorik before the incident- indeed, he had never really spoken to him before- but Chakotaky's eye had always been drawn to the Vulcan when he was in the room if only for a brief glance that he hardly ever recognized he'd given; it was his easy mannerisms which contradicted his perpetual formality and the rolling sonorous tones of his voice (a rich, and intense, and _enigmatic _voice that Chakotay thought he could listen to just for the sake of hearing) that always, always drew Chakotay's eyes. Vorik was by far the most expressive, the most animate, the most forward and friendly Vulcan Chakotay had ever known, but the life was gone from Vorik- at least that's what it looked like from where the Commander stood, and that, to Chakotay, was a true pity. And, wasn't it his duty as first officer to ensure the morale and the well-being of the crew? If Ensign Vorik, who Chakotay new to be a person always surrounded by others what with his odd charisma, was suffering post Pon Farr, should not he, first officer of Voyager, intervene? He didn't like to see Vorik isolated among a mingling crowd- he didn't like to see _anybody_ outcast like that; the fact that it was Vorik constructing eddies in his cold soup for entertainment (which actually wasn't so entertaining if his unfocused eyes were anything to go by) only served to further agitate Chakotay's sense of duty and righteousness.

"-akotay. Chakotay!"

"Huh? Oh- Tom. Sorry. I just got a bit distracted," Chakotay turned to Paris, frowning as the Lieutenant traced his gaze back to where it had been; Chakotay could tell the instant Paris' eyes landed on Vorik in the way he straightened and his lips pressed together. "Tom-" the Commander began before he was abruptly cut off.

"Chakotay, I don't know what you're thinking, but that guy is bad news- I'm telling you," Paris was not discreet at all; indeed, several surrounding personnel glanced in their direction and then at Vorik.

"Tom, he wasn't in his right mind. I don't think he should be persecuted for his actions," Chakotay wished they weren't having this conversation; he knew this was a sensitive subject for Vulcans, but then he had to say _something._ He used an equally forceful tone, hoping first to put an end to this conflict with Tom, and secondly to force his opinion on the surrounding crewmen who had heard their exchange and were watching with impassive faces. He hadn't noticed the bubble around Vorik until now, hadn't realized that while not everyone was angry with Vorik, the engineering crew (who truly formed a community within a community) were loyal to B'Elana above all- except of course the Captain- and that while she was angry with the Ensign, the least they could do was to avoid him. It made Chakotay's blood boil. Someone needed to stand up to Torres and Paris.

"Chakotay, this wasn't a one time thing. It was going on for a while before the blood fever started. He was hitting on B'Elana for weeks, even though she clearly didn't want it!"

"I suggest you lower your voice, Lieutenant!" Chakotay cast a discreet glance in Vorik's direction but the Vulcan's head was still lowered, and his stance had not changed at all; when Chakotay looked back at Paris, a frown forming on his face, Neelix had come around from behind the counter, two trays in either of his hands, which he thrust at the arguing officers.

"Dinner's served!" he called in an anxious and forcefully cheerful tone. Chakotay took his meal, muttering his thanks, Paris refusing to break eye contact even as Chakotay turned to take his food in hand.

"I expected more of you, Tom," the Commander said in his best professionally disappointed voice, and then he turned and moved towards Vorik's table, faltering mid-step as his eyes met Vorik's. The Vulcan stared unwaveringly at Chakotay (with a look that almost suggested he hadoverheard the exchange). As the Commander sidled up to the table, he found himself looking anywhere but into those unreadable eyes.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, and sat down before Vorik could answer. Chakotay dared a glance at Vorik again, but found that he was _still _staring at him. Was there curiosity in those eyes? accusation? annoyance? Chakotay could not tell, but he had every intention of finding out. He took a tentative bite of his stew, feeling more than a little self-conscious as the spoonful made contact with his tongue, and Ensign Vorik continued to watch him. His mouth filled with a warm salty sweet flavor, and he swallowed. "Not bad," he gestured with a nod of his head towards his dish, "Neelix is really improving, wouldn't you agree?" Vorik did not reply, and there was an awkward silence. Chakotay suppressed a grimace, and after a pause continued eating, simply to have something to do with himself. He wasn't so sure joining the engineer had been a such a good idea anymore.

Then Ensign Vorik straightened in his seat and asked, "What is it?" in that sultry voice of his. Chakotay found himself thoroughly distracted by the intense pleasure of hearing it, and had completely missed the question itself.

"Sorry?"

"What is it?" Vorik asked again, his eyes fixed pointedly on Chakotay's bowl of stew. The Commander wondered briefly if Vorik thought his Vulcan pale green soup looked as pitiful and drab next to Neelix's special as he did. Chakotay guessed not, because while Vorik was very animated for a Vulcan, he was still Vulcan, and even if he thought his soup looked as depressing as it did, he probably enjoyed that sort of thing: light, tasteless, _nutritional_ meals.

"Nassarian stew. It's meatless, if you want to try some," Chakotay offered, "Bet you could use a little flavor."

Vorik raised a single brow, "What gives you the impression that Paa'na is not flavorful?"

"Well- look at it," Chakotay gave the supposed Paa'na a pointed look, "It's light green."

"If I am not mistaken, wasabi, a paste served with a Terran favorite, sushi, is exceedingly flavorful but is of nearly the same colour."

Chakotay thought about that for minute and then said, "...Er- I guess you're right," but he was still skeptical.

"Forgive me, Sir, but you don't seem convinced."

Chakotay pursed his lips, "Okay, pass it here. Let me try it."

The Ensign slid his bowl of soup towards Chakotay, but he seemed hesitant.

"What? Did you spit in it?"

Vorik startled, "...I am offended that you-"

"I was joking!" Chakotay cried.

Vorik scrutinized Chakotay for signs of deception; when he found none, he continued, "I am merely concerned you will find it _too_ flavorful-" but Chakotay had already put a spoonful in his mouth, and had proceeded to choke. Vorik slid his glass of water across the table towards Chakotay who took it up in a hasty swoop and gulped down the remainder of its contents and then proceeded to shovel stew into his mouth whilst sucking in lungful after lungful of air. By the time the burning had receded and Chakotay looked at up at Vorik with mock-accusing eyes, the Vulcan had a small smile playing around his lips. Evidently he found Chakotay amusing. Evidently Chakotay's stomach flipped at the sight of a happy Vorik (luckily this had gone unnoticed by his Vulcan companion). When Vorik dropped his eyes to the table in embarrassment, Chakotay let himself suck in another much needed breath (though for a different reason).

"I'm sorry, Commander. I didn't mean to make light of your... injury," Vorik's smile appeared to grow, but his head was ducked too low for Chakotay to be sure. Still, Vorik had just made a sarcastic remark- a joke even!

"I-" Chakotay wasn't sure what to say, but he was filled with a curious soaring sensation. A grin was likewise spreading over his face (he was even fighting back a peal of girly laughter), and he was sure he didn't know what it meant to be unhappy in that moment; in fact, he thought the grin would never fade from his face. "I forgive you, Ensign."

Vorik suddenly seemed to sober, and his eyes snapped to Chakotay's. Chakotay faltered. Had he said something wrong? he wondered in passing, replaying his last words over in his mind, flipping them upside down, saying them backwards, and then it clicked. _I forgive you, Ensign, _for making light of my injury (he had no problems recalling Vorik's words); _I forgive you, Ensign, _for Pon Farr. Chakotay's smile slipped; luckily, he thought, Vorik had turned back to his Paa'na. Chakotay watched the younger crewman as he thought, and as a frown began to etch itself in the Ensign's pretty face; as much as he wanted to say something, he couldn't bring himself to- Vorik was trying to find words, and Chakotay didn't want to waylay him; he was, in fact, rather curious to know what the Ensign had to say. A moment later and Chakotay's patience was rewarded with carefully thought out words and the sleepy voice of Vorik.

"You are one of many that comprise a vast crew- that however does not make your forgiveness any less valuable; indeed, it makes it _more _valuable- you are the only one who has offered me this. I thank you, Commander," Vorik spoke to his bowl, but managed to meet Chakotay's eyes towards the end.

Chakotay nodded solemnly, "The others will come around."

"I don't expect them to," Vorik shook his head, and he started to say more, but cut himself short.

"What is it, Ensign?" Chakotay prompted.

"Well," Vorik hesitated, and Chakotay waited him out, watching as he pushed away his Paa'na, folded his hands in his lap, and sat back in his chair, "I had intended to seek you out, Commander- to discuss my transfer to another department."

"_What_?"

"I wish to transfer departments."

"_Why_?" Chakotay could feel his eyes narrowing.

"I- I feel it is prudent I do; I... may be able to contribute more to the ship and her crew elsewhere."

"Are you suggesting a promotion?"

"No-"

"Then what makes you think you're better suited for another position? You're an engineer,Ensign."

"I am perfectly aware," Vorik said, soundly strained.

Chakotay lifted his chin, his posture nearly matching Vorik's, now; he was sitting straight, and while his wrists rested on the edge of the table, his food was long forgotten. "Give me a straight forward answer, or this conversation ends: Why do you want to transfer?"

"My skills are no longer being utilized in engineering."

"A euphemism, Ensign?"

Vorik bit the inside of his cheek, "I am no longer wanted in engineering, Sir. My responsibilities have been stripped and my duties taken over."

Chakotay's eyes widened, "An informal demotion?"

"Yes."

"S-She has no right!" Chakotay spluttered.

"Indeed, she does," Vorik said, and his brows raised, but there was no humour in the expression, in fact, Chakotay thought Vorik looked rather miserable.

"That's an outrage! _You're an engineer_! You belong in engineering!"

"Well," Vorik breathed deeply, "I have experience in tactical combat, as well as computer sciences, and several fields of physics; I would not be at all averse to joining science _or_ security- indeed, it would be agreeable working with Commander Tuvok," Vorik seemed to be relaxing now, but Chakotay felt as if he were only growing more agitated.

"Ensign, I don't believe for a minute that there is anything you'd rather be doing than what you are- were- that is, engineering."

Vorik was quiet for a long time, with a thoughtful expression on his face. "I suppose you are right, Commander, however, circumstances must be taken into account. Logic dictates that I do that which is most efficient; my idle presence in engineering only serves to impede the work flow of my fellow engineers-"

"How?"

"I... agitate B'Elana-" Chakotay looked about to speak, so Vorik raised his voice marginally, "I no longer wish to remain in engineering."

Chakotay took pause. "You can't let them chase you away," he said quietly. When Vorik said nothing he continued, "I can fix this. Let me try to fix this."

Vorik glanced around the mess hall, and was glad he had chosen a secluded area to eat. "You cannot fix it, Sir."

"Let me try," Chakotay repeated.

"No," Vorik said firmly.

"Why?" Chakotay near cried.

The Ensign exhaled, "Because, Commander, they will only think less of me for not accepting the consequences of my actions."

"You had no control over those actions!"

It was Vorik's turn to pause, "That is irrelevant."

"No, it isn't. It means that you're being treated unfairly. It means they are out of line. I'm first officer of this ship; I don't need your permission to intervene. I only thought I would extend that courtesy to you."

Vorik narrowed his eyes. "...You would not."

"I would," Chakotay replied.

"You _would_, but you will not," Vorik countered. Chakotay made a face, "Please, Commander."

"...Ensign, your asking me to disregard an instance of misconduct aboard this ship that falls under my jurisdiction. I'm going to have to, at the very least, speak to the Captain about this."

Vorik pressed his lips together, "I understand," he said with a nod, his voice dropping, "I don't wish to wrong you as well, to place you in a difficult situation."

"It's my job... and it was out of your control."

"Still, I really must thank you for your understanding."

"I try," Chakotay shrugged, offering a small smile. There was a pause, and then the Commander took up his spoon and resumed eating. It was pretty clear that Vorik had finished, but the young Ensign did not move to leave; instead he sat, looking rather relaxed, staring straight ahead- he almost looked lost in thought, but his eyes were focused and present. Chakotay had no protest to this arrangement; in fact, it rather made him think.

"There is one way you could repay me," Chakotay said thoughtfully, Vorik's eyes sliding over to meet his own.

"Indeed?"

Chakotay nodded, "Be my date to the soiree on Tuesday?"

Vorik blinked, and Chakotay's gut twisted uncomfortably; he thought he was going to throw up. He wished he could take back his words, but-

"That would be... acceptable," the Ensign's eyes danced.

By the time Chakotay regained his composure, Vorik had already made his way out of the mess hall, and _he_ was the one sitting alone at a table in the corner.

A smile grew on his face.


End file.
